


Outcasts

by LaNayruNova



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-04 17:12:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1786807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaNayruNova/pseuds/LaNayruNova
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All she wanted was a happy ending or maybe a peaceful coexistence. But she supposed she was someone awful in her past life. My try at a fem!Harry. May include LV/HP in the very distant future. I don't think there will be much bashing of characters but this is still in the early stages so we'll see where it goes. Rating subject to change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Silence and Acceptance

**Author's Note:**

> Just wanted to say hi. Write a quick disclaimer for the whole story. You may see quotes or near quotes throughout the story. Those belong to J.K. Rowling as do all the characters including the fem!Harry. That's basically it. Now, onwards brave souls!

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord shall mark this one as his equal, but the one will have power the Dark Lord knows not. And either must die at the hands of the other for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies._

These were the words that sealed the fate of her and her family, even if the 15 month old child didn't know them.

* * *

The young girl ran through the woods, terrified by the monsters in the dark. They hid in the shadows of trees, red eyes gleaming between flashed of bright green lightening. Her heart pounded in her ears but she kept going knowing that end of this ordeal she would be safe. She just had to reach the cottage hidden deep in the woods. Rain pelts her as her ebony hair snags onto the branches. She kept running. The girl ran as claws and teeth draw crimson blood from her snowy skin. She kept running as a scream rent the air. Hers, but she kept running. Finally though, the storm subsides, the monsters relent, and spent, she falls to the forest floor.

Sunlight shining on her eyelids wake her the next morning and she spots the cottage in the clear valley below her, bathed in the sun's rays. The cottage is everything she would ever need. It is safe, it warm, it is personal, and it is filthy. But this is nothing that she cannot fix. With a song and help from her woodland friends the cottage is once again fit for human habitation and when her new family returns there is plenty for them to eat. After all, she has always been a good cook. Her role in this family is a homemaker and she does this without complaint because it makes them happy and seeing them happy is enough to put a smile on her face.

Time passes in a blur of song, sunshine, and smiles before the peace is interrupted by an old woman hobbling home. The young girl wants to help her and why should she not? Everyone needs someone to lean on every now and then. To thank the girl, the old woman gives her a shiny apple and not wanting to disappoint the old woman by admitting that she does not really like apples, the young girl's rose red lips part and she sinks her teeth into the apple's soft flesh. A moment later she falls to the ground, asleep and unable to rise.

When her family comes home they mourn her and lay roses on her glass-topped coffin. But the handsome Prince, who has been looking for her all along, will not accept her death and begs to hold her. This will be the first time he hugs her, the first time he presses his lips to hers, and the last time, he knows. He forgets though that the cure for all the world's wrongs is a true love's kiss. The moment his lips touches her, the girl awakens as if from a sleep and smiles at her savior. They can live happily ever after now, and the girl knows that they will. Her family will be complete now that the Prince will be in it. They have for this brief minute forgotten the evil which darkens the horizon. The witch Queen whose greatest wish is not to have a family or to bring peace to the world, but to be the Fairest of them All.

This title, the fairest of them all, is not one the young girl cares for or knows but the mirror informs the witch that it is a title which belongs to the girl. Furious that she has once again failed, the witch storms off into the night to destroy her once and for all. But unlike before, the young girl has her family with her and the Prince and those she calls her brothers fight to protect her. Together, they manage to defeat the witch and when she falls, the Prince slays her.

Finally, the kingdom which has for so long been under the reign of the wicked witch rejoices. The young girl, who is the late king's daughter returns to her home with the Prince. Without further thought they marry and her chosen brothers are rewarded for their courage and loyalty. She reminds her people that no good deed should go unacknowledged and she reminds her brothers that they will always be welcome in the palace. After all the trials they have faced together, they have triumphed and in the end they are all happy.

_But_ , the young girl thought as a light suddenly blinded her, _in the end is such a long time away_. Her eyes adjusted as the substitute teacher stood in front of the television which was still rolling the end credits. The young girl sighed as she remembered that she was not Snow White, the fairest of them all, but Amaryllis Potter, the freak no one wanted. She was the girl with the ugly glasses and the weathered clothes who sat in the back of the class because no one wanted to sit next to her. She was the girl whose inky hair was still tangled because yet another comb broke this morning as she tried to tame it. She was the girl who –

Her inner rumblings were interrupted as the teacher spoke. "So children, did you like the movie?" Amaryllis nodded but the teacher couldn't see her over the heads of the taller ten year olds. Instead, the teacher focused on another, louder voice.

"It stinks!" Amaryllis identified this voice as that of her cousin, Dudley Dursley. "It wasn't even real!"

"And what makes you think that?" the substitute asked without a trace of annoyance.

"'Cause there's no such thing as magic," Dudley sneered. A chorus of voices agreed with Dudley's statement. Amaryllis would have disagreed, but who would listen?

The teacher smiled sweetly at Dudley. "Of course there's such a thing as magic, as long as you believe. That's how dreams come true." Many of the girls in the classroom looked unsure very suddenly. _Could they have a happily ever after like Snow White's_ , they wondered. "Oh, certainly. I can't imagine why wouldn't."

Dudley snorted. "You're lying. My dad said there's no such thing as magic and only lazy people believe in dreams. If things don't go their way they can just say 'it wasn't meant to be.' Decent folk work hard to reach their goals and lazy freaks don't."

Amaryllis worried her bottom lip. She really wanted magic to be real. She couldn't think of anything better than sitting across the table with a real family who loved her. They wouldn't tell her that her dreams meant nothing; they wouldn't call her lazy, ungrateful, delinquent, a freak. She would have known her name before she started school and the other kids wouldn't call her slow, stupid, ugly, a freak.

"…Wait until my dad hears about this fantasy rubbish you're showing us! He won't be happy!" Dudley said, turning his button nose into the air. The others agreed with him again and Amaryllis was secretly glad that she hadn't risen to the substitute teacher's defense, though she supposed it wouldn't make much of a difference.

The substitute remained unruffled and turned the conversation towards other things like character developments and plot diagrams. The rest of the class period was spent drawing the plot diagram for Snow White. Amaryllis did so with careful precision.

Exposition: She supposed this was the easiest part. Snow White stands by a well in the courtyard of her home singing while the handsome Prince spies on her. Snow White has a lovely singing voice and animals seem to love her. Amaryllis understands that at least. She doesn't have much experience with animals besides Mrs. Figg's cats but she can't imagine them being more critical than people. Snow White's dad is dead and she's an orphan now. There's no one left to tuck her in at night, to read her a bedtime story, to give her a hug when she's feeling sick, or kiss a scrape to make it feel better. Amaryllis understands this too. Finally, the evil Queen's mirror tells her that Snow White is the fairest in all the land. Amaryllis can't help but to blame the mirror for the troubles that Snow White goes through after that. If only the mirror had been silent.

Rising action: Snow White has to run away from her home because the Queen kicks her out of the kingdom. Amaryllis wonders sometimes if she would be better off running away. Maybe she could find a real family like Snow White does with the seven dwarfs. This new family would smile when Amaryllis dusts the furniture and cooks for them. They would tell her that it tastes wonderful and ask her for the recipe. She would give it to them and they would one day cook together and make the biggest mess before getting into a food fight.

Amaryllis couldn't keep the smile from spilling across her face. This mistake was all it took for the girl in front of her to rise to her feet and close the distance to stand right in front of Amaryllis's desk with her hand on her hip. "What are you laughing about, geek? Think we're funny do you?"

"N-no. I-I'm not laughing at all," Amaryllis disagreed quietly, her good mood gone along with her bright smile.

The other girl was having none of it. She brought her face in close to Amaryllis's and sneered. "You think you're too good to be around us but really, Potter, you're not. You're just an ugly, stupid, orphan! That's why you have no friends." Before Amaryllis could stop her, although she probably wouldn't have, the girl ripped Amaryllis's assignment off her desk, stood up straight, and tore it in half before crumbling it and tossing it to the trash bin. It missed and finally settled by the bin.

"Look, not even your paper can do anything right," the girl snapped, flicking her hair over her shoulder. "What do you have to say for yourself, huh, Potter?"

"I'm s-sorry, Emily," Amaryllis whispered. By now most of the class had stopped to watch the proceedings with barely concealed glee.

Emily tapped her foot on the floor impatiently. "Useless, I tell you. She's completely useless." Emily shook her head with a condescending frown. "What are you sorry for?"

She couldn't cry, she wouldn't. Not if her bottom lip trembled uncontrollably; not if her pale cheeks became a splotchy red; not if hot, wet tracks pushed a path down those cheeks; not even if drops fell onto the desktop. She wouldn't cry. "I-I'm sorry f-f-for being a –"

"A…?"

"A-an ugly, s-s-stup-pid, or-orph-phan."

A predatory grin spread across Emily's face as the rest of the class snickered or laughed (the choice really depended on who it was). "There now, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Amaryllis shook her head which she hadn't lifted at all since she began working on the assignment and the very satisfied brunette strutted back to her seat. Amaryllis didn't lift her head until she heard the scratching of pencils on paper resume and the occasional snicker ceased. When she finally did, she discretely wiped her face with an over-sized sleeve and looked up at the unaffected substitute teacher. She sighed softly and sniffled. _I guess there really is no such thing as magic_ , she thought to herself as she placed her head down into the dark space between her arms and the desk.

* * *

The school bell ringing was both a blessing and a curse for the little black haired girl. It signaled not only the end of an awful day but the end of the school year. Next year she would be in secondary school and hopefully many of her tormentors would be going elsewhere. If they did she would have the chance to start over. However, the bell also signified the start of the summer. She would no longer have access to the school library that had become her haven and her cousin would no longer be occupied by classwork or hushed by the presence of a teacher. No, she was looking at another summer of sweltering heat, endless chores, and Dudley Dodging.

With a heavy heart, she stood up and slowly made her way out of the classroom, stopping only for a moment to pick up her Plot Diagram and place it gently into the rubbish bin. She clung to the corridor wall to avoid being jostled by the stream of happy children ready to begin their summer adventure. Some, like Emily, were going abroad for the summer and would certainly move onto secondary school with loud tales designed to hold onto their popularity. Other students exchanged plans to visit family in other towns, go to the beaches, or utilize pools which had been neglected during the cooler months.

Maybe Amaryllis could fabricate her summer. Dudley wouldn't be there to contradict her as he would be attending Smeltings in the fall and since there was a good chance Emily and her friends wouldn't be there either she might get away with it. But it wasn't in her nature to lie. Lies hadn't helped her in the slightest in the past and generally made any punishments worse although telling the truth hadn't helped her either. Silence and acceptance, she found, were more beneficial; or at the very least they weren't detrimental.

Amaryllis stepped outside of the relative safety of the school building and looked around. Not many people hung back except other kids like her. The friendless children who were seen as unkempt, uncommonly dim, or unattractive had the unpleasant privilege of sizing each other up, giving one another an understanding half-glance, and walking home either in pairs or, for those like Amaryllis, alone. After her traditional acknowledgement of other lone wolves, she began to make her way to her aunt and uncle's home, 4 Privet Drive.

Thankfully, Amaryllis didn't run into her cousin and his friends so she made it back to her home, the cupboard under the stairs, without incident. She made the decision to hide there until Aunt Petunia called her out for dinner at precisely 6:00 P.M. However, with nothing to do she fell asleep instead and didn't wake until the next morning. After all, the last day of school was never one of celebration.

* * *

Days passed by in endless stream of monotony until one morning, a week before her eleventh birthday, Amaryllis woke to a horrible stench. She groaned and brushed a hand through her hair almost immediately though it snagged and she pulled her hand out again. Stretching didn't give her much relief either as there wasn't much space in her little sanctuary to do so. So, she pushed open the door which was never locked during the summer and crawled out before standing, shutting the door behind her, and stretching her arms towards the ceiling. Then she wrinkled her nose. That smell was worse than her breath.

With that thought she rushed upstairs and made quick work of washing up and dressing for the day, then returned downstairs and entered the kitchen. "Good morning, Aunt Petunia." Her aunt, a tall, thin woman with a craning neck, an angular face, and bright blue eyes grunted but said no more as she continued scrubbing rags in the murky water within the sink. "What is that?"

Aunt Petunia glared at her and Amaryllis inwardly flinched. She wasn't allowed to ask questions and she knew that but sometimes it was so hard not to. Besides, this was different than anything that had occurred in the house before. How had Aunt Petunia let something so filthy into her home? Was that elephant skin? "It's your uniform."

The young girl scrunched up her nose for once glad that her unruly hair covered the action. "Is it supposed to look like it was poached?"

"Nonsense, once I've finished dying it, it will look just like everyone else's." Amaryllis seriously doubted this. "Go tend to breakfast and don't burn the bacon this time. Everything has to be perfect for Dudley's birthday."

Dudley's birthday. How could she have forgotten? He's been speaking of nothing else all week and Aunt Petunia had been making all sorts of plans. Amaryllis began preparing Dudley's birthday breakfast, valiantly trying to ignore the noxious odor coming from the sink. After several minutes of silence, both breakfast and Aunt Petunia were done. Amaryllis piled Dudley and Uncle Vernon's plates with eggs and rashers of bacon before serving Aunt Petunia a more reasonable serving. The little girl as always took what was left over which was a little more than usual as she had made extra.

As she placed the last dish onto the kitchen table, Dudley came stomping down the stairs. Amaryllis shook her head and wondered why it made Aunt Petunia smile to hear a hippo come down the stairs and slam the kitchen door open.

"Oh, there's my Diddykins!" Aunt Petunia screeched. "Happy birthday, sweetheart!"

Before Dudley could reply, Uncle Vernon came through the kitchen door as well. "One year closer to manhood! How does it feel to be eleven?!"

"Great! Where are my presents?" the now eleven year old whale demanded. This might have been a question Amaryllis could have understood if the living room was not in full view with the coffee table creaking under the weight of several large wrapped boxes.

"They're over there, Pumpkin. So eat your breakfast so you can open them, O.K.?"

Dudley looked like he would argue but seemed to decide that the presents weren't going to go anywhere and his growling stomach was a more pressing concern. So, without further ado, Dudley sat at his usual chair and inhaled his breakfast before nicking a couple pieces of bacon off Amaryllis's plate. She ignored him although she wanted to growl and bite his hand off. Why did he feel the need to steal her food when he always had more than enough?

Finally stuffed, Dudley hauled himself out of his chair and waddled to the living room. "How many are there?"

"32. Counted them myself this morning!" Uncle Vernon answered proudly. Amaryllis rolled her eyes as she prepared herself for the volcanic eruption that was sure to follow this statement.

"32! Last year I got 35!"

Amaryllis tuned out the rest of their words in favor of Right Said Fred. "I'm too sexy for my hat, too sexy for my hat, what do you think about that?" she sang as she washed the breakfast dishes. By the time she turned off the tap, the family had decided that they would buy him two more presents when they came back from the zoo. Speaking of which, she was really looking forward to that. Of course, she wouldn't be going to the zoo with them, she was going to Mrs. Figg's house and while she hated the stale cookies and endless stories about all her cats, she liked being able to the sneak out the window and go to park for a while. She would get to do that today.

As she was contemplating a peaceful day at the local park the phone rang and Aunt Petunia answered. "Hello. Yes, speaking. Yes. Are you sure? Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Yes. Yes, of course not. Thank you. Bye." Aunt Petunia put the phone back onto the receiver and glared at Amaryllis for a moment before turning to Uncle Vernon. "Bad news, Vernon. Figg just called; her leg is broken and she won't be able to take the girl."

Well, that explained the glare. "Are you sure?" Aunt Petunia nodded. "What about your friend? Marjorie, isn't it?"

"She's on holiday in Majorca."

"I could call my sister."

"Don't be silly, Vernon. She hates the girl."

Dudley, finally getting the drift of where this miniature disaster was heading began to cry. "I-I d-d-don't w-want h-h-h-er t-to c-come! Sh-she a-alw-ways r-r-ruins ev-ev-ryth-thing!" Despite his theatrics, for once Amaryllis was on his side.

She bit her lip before giving herself a mental nod. "I-I can stay here, can't I? So Dudley's birthday won't be spoiled?"

"As if we'd leave you here alone. Who knows what kind of trouble you'll stir up?!" Uncle Vernon declared.

"You'll just have to come with us then."

Amaryllis frowned but nodded. "Yes, Aunt Petunia."

* * *

It didn't take Amaryllis too long to decide that she rather liked the zoo. There were plenty of interesting animals and though she couldn't stay at each exhibit very long (Dudley got bored very easily), she learned a lot. Dudley saw the Reptile House first and dragged his parents (and therefore Amaryllis) into the building. Unlike outside, it was pleasantly cool, dark, and damp inside. No one spoke above a whisper and she was curious about the more sibilant whispers she could hear. But she didn't question it and instead stood in front of the glass which Dudley and Piers had gotten bored of.

The plaque next to its tank read:

_Boa Constrictor_

_Non-Venomous Constrictor_

_Native to Central and South America, the Boa Constrictor can grow to 13 feet in length. They prefer the humid tropical forests where there is plenty of cover and prey. They are excellent swimmers and are quite tame when in captivity._

_Bred in captivity._

"Bred in captivity, huh? I know that feeling," Amaryllis whispered. The snake slowly lifted its head and stared at her. She stared back at it. "Can you hear me?" The snake nodded, or at least it seemed to but surely snakes couldn't speak to people, could they? "Do you speak to people often?" It shook its head. "I don't either. Most people don't like me very much. I bet people like you though. I think you're cool, at least."

"Thanksssss."

Amaryllis's surprise at hearing the snake speak was cut short when she was shoved roughly to the floor by Dudley. "Dad! Dad look what this one is doing!" Amaryllis glared at her cousin whose face was now pressed against the glass. She pulled her eyes away to look at the snake instead and was only brought back by a shout of surprise and a splash. She glanced at her cousin to see him…inside the tank. How in the world did he get in there? Why did he always get to do cool things like that? Where did the glass go?

Any other questions were cut off as the 10 foot snake uncoiled itself and slithered out of its container. It slithered towards her and hissed out another thanks before continuing on and snapping at people's heels. The chaos in the Reptile House was only added to by Aunt Petunia's shrieks, so reluctantly Amaryllis ripped her gaze from the now freed snake and looked up at the tank. Where did that glass come from?

* * *

She was grounded now for being a freak. Or for saying the word "magic." Amaryllis couldn't decide which it was but she should have listened to her golden rule. Accept in silence. Things aren't quite so bad when there's very little to argue about. 


	2. A Torrent of Letters

Being punished in the Dursley household meant endless chores and very little food while watching the other child shovel a copious meal into his/her mouth complete with rocky road ice cream and a rehashing of his/her day. All in all it was not much different from when Amaryllis was not punished with the exception that she got no dinner at all and was not allowed to go to the park. She was sure Dudley would find the experience awful but he needn’t worry as he was a perfect angel; she’d once heard Petunia describe him as cherubic. It was as true as the fact that the Sun was square.

Amaryllis sat at the breakfast table munching on the slice of whole-grain toast she was allowed to eat with a glass of milk this morning. She didn’t like milk unless it was mixed with chocolate but she drank it anyway. Across from her, Dudley ate a crackling bowl of Coco Pops while watching his morning cartoons. Uncle Vernon sat reading the paper, his mustache quivering as he grumbled. “The country’s a mess. Three million people unemployed, and they blame the government?”

“Young people these days refuse to take responsibility for their own actions,” Petunia added.

“Right you are, Pet,” Vernon stated as he folded the newspaper in half and placed it onto the table. “These kids want everything handed to them and when they don’t get it, they riot in the streets. Meanwhile, we, the hard-working taxpayers, have to keep shelling out money that we _earned_. The Minister shouldn’t keep catering to those no good lay-abouts.”

“I completely agree. They should earn their keep.” Petunia glared at Amaryllis as she said this as if daring the ten year old to disagree. She didn’t.

The mail slot swung and the momentarily quiet occupants of 4 Privet Drive heard a soft plunk from the entrance way. “Dudley, go get the mail,” Vernon ordered absently.

Dudley looked up from his television show with wide eyes. “Make Amaryllis get it!” he whined.

“Girl, go get the mail,” Vernon commanded, tone brooking no argument. Amaryllis smothered the glare threatening to show as her gargantuan cousin smirked. Instead she stood up and headed into the vestibule allowing the kitchen door to swing shut and muffle her uncle’s voice as he continued. “That’s why we have to keep trouble-makers occupied.”

“Oh, of course. Idle hands only make mischief.”

Amaryllis wondered then why her relatives didn’t send Dudley on errands as well. After all, he was a child too and he had more free time than he knew what to do with. Then again she supposed that her cousin could do no wrong whether he was idle or not. She sighed and picked up the mail before quickly flicking through them out of habitual curiosity. Bill. Bill. Postcard from Aunt Marge (charming as always, even in letters). Check, perhaps? Letter addressed to Amaryllis. Bill. Wait...just…a…minute!

“What are you doing out there, girl? Checking for bombs?” Vernon called through the door. Amaryllis held the letter addressed to her in her hand and walked back to the kitchen. It felt heavier than normal paper and it was rougher as well. She handed her uncle the mail and returned to her seat, ignored by all for the moment.

_Miss Amaryllis Dorea Potter_

_Cupboard Under the Stairs_

_No. 4 Privet Drive_

And wasn’t that a strange way to address an envelope? Not to mention that there was no return address listed. Was someone spying on her? Who was she supposed to respond to? The ink was a lovely color. It was green. She would say it was her favorite color if anyone asked. No one did besides the primary school teachers when she was younger. Why was it addressed like that?

She flipped the envelope and admired the red wax seal on it. It had a large ‘H’ surrounded by a snake, a lion, a bird, and some other animal and below them was what she assumed was a motto: “Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus.” Amaryllis tilted her head. “What does that mean?”

Rule Number Two in the Dursley household: never ask questions.

Petunia’s attention redirected itself onto Amaryllis from the postcard in her hands. “What does what mean?” The red of the wax caught her eye and she snatched the envelope out of Amaryllis’s hand. “What’s this then?” Amaryllis watched as her aunt examined the seal more closely and paled before she flipped the envelope over. What little color the woman possessed drained from her lips. “Vernon!”

Reacting to his wife’s alarm, the brute looked up and took the letter that she held out in front of him and as far from her body as she could get it. He took the letter soundlessly. As he read it, he went through the same shades as his wife before the color rose again and settled at a distinctly unattractive shade of puce. “HOW DARE THEY? WHO DO THEY THINK THEY ARE SPYING ON US LIKE THIS?!”

“Who? Can I see it?!” Dudley asked eagerly. Events such as this were rare in the Dursley household. Amaryllis had never received a letter as she’d never done much to attract unwanted attention from the teachers. Besides, the time she wound up on the school’s roof or the time she turned a teacher’s wig blue. But they just called her aunt on the telephone. The letter though wasn’t the strangest part. It was their reaction to an envelope. “I want to see it!”

“No. Go to your room. Both of you!” Vernon growled at the kids. Sensing a dangerous mood coming on, Amaryllis got up and walked towards the door of the kitchen.

“BUT I WANT TO SEE IT, NOW!” Dudley shrieked. He wasn’t nearly as intimidating as Uncle Vernon but he was getting there, maybe after he hit puberty he would be capable of bellowing.

For the first time, Dudley was manhandled and deposited very roughly into the hallway. The kitchen door was then latched in Dudley’s face and the adults began to get into a harshly whispered. Amaryllis frowned and then dropped to her knees, crawled to the door and placed her ear by the crack under the door. Dudley seemed to understand that she was eavesdropping because he quietly followed suit but used the keyhole. It would have been fine if he hadn’t tried to use Amaryllis as a chair. “Ow! Get off you friggin’ cow!” she hissed.

“I’m not a cow!” he snapped back in a harsh, loud whisper. “Don’t call me that!”

“Could’ve fooled me, you weigh about the same.” Dudley lifted himself off of her thankfully and began grumbling with her trying hard to focus on the conversation behind the door. “We would hear so much more if I could put a sock in your mouth! Shut up!”

Dudley did, thankfully and the argument behind the door drifted through the crack.

“How do you think they found out?” Petunia asked. Amaryllis imagined that she sounded worried but that was rare as Aunt Petunia was only ever concerned about whether her men ate enough. “Do you think they’re watching?”

“Might have spies on us. With those sort, you could never tell.”

“We’re going to have to move her. They could report us if we don’t.”

Vernon grunted. “They would have done it already if they were going to but it’s better to be safe. We’ll move her into the smallest bedroom first thing tomorrow morning.” They were quiet for a moment.

“They’ll be expecting a reply.”

“The answer is no. We’re not going to put up with any of that freakish nonsense,” Vernon said loud enough for the eavesdroppers to hear him even if they hadn’t had their ears pressed to the door. Amaryllis wasn’t sure what was going on or who ‘they’ were but she wore a wide grin. Finally, she would be getting her own room. She would be able to stretch out in the morning and walk in her room and stand in every part of the room without having to worry about hitting her head on the ceiling. Uncle Vernon began speaking again. “We’ll ignore this one. They’ll take the hint and stop contacting us.”

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” Petunia responded in a distant voice. Vernon remained silent. “When she got her letter one of them came to the house in Cokesworth. There was someone to explain everything to her but now…the girl only received a letter. It says nothing about…anything. It’s as if –”

“They expected us to raise her like them,” Vernon snarled. “They’ve got no consideration for anyone but themselves. Irresponsible, the lot of them. Irresponsible, inconsiderate scavengers.” Amaryllis hadn’t realized Uncle Vernon had that many words in his vocabulary. Still, she had no idea who they were talking about but that letter. She wanted it now. “All they’re good for is interfering with the lives of good people and blowing themselves up. They didn’t even do a good job with that.”

Blowing themselves up? She looked up at her cousin who was watching her with wide eyes. “Terrorists?” Dudley mouthed. Amaryllis shrugged and went back to listening to the conversation. If ‘they’ were terrorists they wouldn’t have sent her a letter. Not unless they wanted to train her. Yeah, maybe they were agents in MI6.

_The woman leaned over the bar counter, her long legs crossed elegantly at the ankles. A gloved, tapered finger tapped the counter top once and the handsome young man tending the bar came over to her. “What’re you having, Miss Flower?” “_

_Shirley Temple…Black.” Miss Flower flicked her long, sleek, onyx hair over her shoulder revealing her long, elegant neck._

_The action caught the attention of a tall man in a white button down shirt, black slacks, shiny black shoes, his tie draped over his shoulders and a blazer tossed casually over his arm. He gave her a wide, charming grin and tipped his glass towards her. “To your health, Miss, and your beauty.”_

_“Shirley Temple Black, Miss Flower.” The bar tender placed the glass in front of her and she nodded absently, eyes still focused on the man two seats from her. The bar tender turned away and she picked up the glass daintily before mimicking her neighbor. “To your health, and a…pleasant night.” “_

_Miss Flower…The name suits you,” the man said after they’d both taken a sip. “May I inquire as to your first name? I’m sure it’s just as lovely.”_

_“By all means, be my guest.”_

_“One as fair as you…” the man paused. “Your name must be Amaryllis.”_

_The woman gave him a coy smile. “Right in one, good sir. Should I try to guess yours?”_

_“Of course, my lady!” “You look like a John. John Carmichael.” Agent Amaryllis Flower watched with satisfaction as John Carmichael’s eyes widened with surprise._

_“How could you know that?”_

_“Oh, I have my ways, Mr. Carmichael.” The agent lifted her foot and leaned down to touch the three inch heel of her gold stilettos. Her smile widened as her target followed the moment not with trepidation but appreciation. It was this because of this distraction that he didn’t notice her removing the small weapon from the hidden compartment in her shoes. She returned to her original position before resting her chin on her hand and pouting her full red lips. “I thought it would be much harder to find you, Mr. Carmichael. But you are a creature of habit, I suppose.”_

_“You’ve been watching me!” her target stated beginning to rise to his feet. “You’re one of them!”_

_“Come now, John, darling. You’re making a scene.” Agent Flower slid from the bar stool allowing her dress to rise up to her toned thighs. Men, even when they know they’re heading for a trap, they fly into the web. “How about we take we conclude our business elsewhere, Mr. Carmichael?”_

_The promise of something else was enough to put the man at ease and he held out his arm for her. “Of course, Miss Flower. I am sorry for overreacting.”_

_“It’s no problem at all; understandable really,” she said with a smile as she took his arm and they walked out close together. She snuggled closer to him and a fleeting frown crossed her face. She could feel his sinewy muscles through the white shirt. Such a shame really; she could imagine feel of his toned abs warm under her fingertips. She sighed._

_“Chilly night, isn’t it? Oh, this looks like a good spot.” He pulled her into the shadows of a closed restaurant and an apartment building. She sighed again as warm lips caught her in a searing kiss and he pressed her against the brick wall. Yes, it would be a shame indeed. Her hands threaded through his silky hair, pulling him closer, simply enjoying the moment. It would be over soon anyway. Her hand moved to the nape of his neck before she plunged the tiny syringe between the vertebrae and emptying its contents into his bloodstream with gentle pressure._

_He dropped to the alley floor without protest. She stepped over the body and headed to the corner to make the call. A moment after dialing 373, a cheerful voice answered. “Sandy’s Pizzeria, what can I do for you tonight?”_

_“I’d like the Sunday Special, please.”_

_“Just one moment, Miss.”Agent Flower examined her fingers despite them being gloved as she waited._

_“Status?”_

_“It’s done.”_

_“Good work, Miss Flower. We’re sending your next assignment to you now. Good luck.” The line closed and Agent Flower hung up before walking away._

_The detectives would find her target’s body in the morning perhaps, if the Cleaners decided not to show, but by then she would be long gone. For now though…“I need a drink.”_

“That’s decided then. Her parents may have been like them but there’s no reason why she has to be to. We’ll move her to the spare room in the morning. She’s getting too big for the cupboard anyway,” Petunia stated.

Amaryllis and Dudley scurried to their rooms as two chairs in the kitchen scraped backwards. She managed to get into the safety of the cupboard before the door opened. Dudley wasn’t so lucky and for the first time in ages he got a stern talking to about eavesdropping.

But dammit! She wanted to be a secret agent, especially if her parents were agents too!

* * *

If the Dursley and Amaryllis thought the matter was over and they would go back to their usual routines minus the change of sleeping arrangements (which displeased Dudley immensely), they were sorely mistaken. The next morning five of the eight pieces of mail the Dursleys received were addressed to Amaryllis. Unfortunately, it was Uncle Vernon who collected the mail from the vestibule so she couldn’t snatch one which she definitely would have. Guess Uncle Vernon wasn’t as thick as he looked. She glared at her uncle from under her fringe as he burned them in the fireplace one by one.

The day after that the process was repeated only this time there were about fifteen letters. Amaryllis frowned as she saw the watched the red wax seal melt in the fireplace. If it was MI6 they could just come and spirit her away in the middle of the night. They had night-vision goggles, so navigating the simple house wouldn’t be a problem for them. There was also the fact that she spent her afternoons in the garden pulling out an endless amount of weeds before watering the cowslips, the poppies, and the rose bushes. MI6 would have more than enough opportunities to take her while she was attending to her chores.

The fourth day went very much like the previous two and Amaryllis refused to watch as more of the letters were burned. By now she was bored of the situation and she wondered why in the world a secret organization would be sending her letters like this anyway. Wouldn’t the mailman be suspicious of the amount of strangely addressed letter? Would he even mail them? She hadn’t seen any stamps on the envelope at all. How were they paying for it? Amaryllis spent the day sweeping walkway and the driveway. No one approached her although she saw an unusual number of owls perched on every available surface. She had giggled to herself when Uncle Vernon had come out of the house with his briefcase for work and tried to scare it off his car. It hooted at him before looking away. The owl only flew off when the car turned on and began to back out of the driveway.

Saturday preceded much as the day before except that Uncle Vernon had nailed the mail slot shut.

Finally, it was Sunday.

“No post on Sundays! None of those bloody letters today.”

Amaryllis watched her uncle with a trace of concern. His grin stretched across his face and if she was honest and perhaps braver she would ask him to kindly wipe it off. It was deranged. Instead she redirected her gaze to the plate in front of her and nibbled on the crust of her toast. She wasn’t sure why but she was fond of the crusts and since Dudley didn’t like them she got to eat his as well. It was because she was looking down that she didn’t see the first letter hit her uncle on the back of the head. But she heard the roar of _something_ echoing from the fireplace. Her alarm only grew as the sound rose to a roar before a torrent of letters burst through, practically flooding the room.

The family and Amaryllis screamed as the deluge continued. Amaryllis dropped to the floor in her hurry to exit the room before a sudden idea took hold and she acted on it. She snatched one letter from the carpet of them and tucked it into the waistband of the jeans she wore. It would fall out if she walked too fast but for now it would have to do. Amaryllis continued her retreat to the relative safety of the foyer only for another stream to break the mail slot’s covering and start pouring in from there. Quite frankly the whole ordeal was frightening and she was relieved to hear Uncle Vernon shout from the kitchen. “That’s it!” He growled. “That’s it! Pack your things, we’re leaving.”

It took nearly three hours of comings and goings and shoutings for the family to be ready to leave. While Aunt Petunia and Dudley packed, Uncle Vernon picked up all the letters from the kitchen and the entryway and put them in a large garbage bag which he then threw into the trash bin. Amaryllis was surprised when he told her firmly to stay out of the way and in the living room. She did as she was told just like she was taught to do and sat in the living room for the entire time.

When they were finally in the car and driving towards only goodness knows where, Amaryllis decided that this was a question that had to be asked. So, she pushed aside her qualms and asked, “Where in the world would I buy a cauldron from?”


	3. Isn't This Just Beachy

"Where in the world would I buy a cauldron from?" Now, Amaryllis wouldn't use the words vindictive or sadistic to describe herself and she certainly wouldn't take pleasure from anyone's discomfort or pain – Oh, who was she kidding! The look of pure terror on Aunt Petunia's face was one she would remember for years to come. In fact, she would go as far as saying it was one of the best images she'd seen yet. But she didn't laugh. Instead, Amaryllis plastered on an innocently befuddled frown as barely refrained from smashing her face into the back of Uncle Vernon's seat. Dudley, sitting in the backseat against the opposite door, wasn't as fortunate. The family righted themselves from the impact of their car coming to a sudden, screeching halt.

"What nonsense are you talking about, girl?" Aunt Petunia asked after a steadying breath, her expression more pinched than usual.

Amaryllis feigned shock and then guilt. "I'm sorry, I should have been more specific. I'll just read it aloud for you then." She coughed, hiding a smirk behind her hand as she cleared her throat and ignored the twin looks of horror shared between the adults in the front seat. For some reason neither moved to stop her as she began: "HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY…"

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, -_ "Mugwump?" Dudley interrupted with a giggle. Amaryllis tried to push down the laughter threatening to bubble forth but valiantly read on - _International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Ms. Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl –_ "In case you were wondering Dudley, that's why all those owls were waiting around outside the house" _\- by no later than 31 July._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

"What sort of things do you need?" Dudley asked, still laughing and oblivious to the stillness from the front seat as well as the honking of car horns behind them.

"Oh, glad you asked!" Amaryllis flipped to the next page of parchment. "Hmm, let me see. It looks like I'll need robes, a plain pointed hat, dragon hide gloves, a cloak, a bunch of books, a wand, and a cauldron." She nodded. "All very reasonable," she said before snorting as Dudley shook with silent laughter. "I can also have either a cat, owl, or toad as a pet but I can't bring a broomstick until my second year. Drats! I really wanted to sweep the school off its feet!" This burst the dam on Dudley's mouth and he began laughing hysterically with Amaryllis soon following suit.

Amaryllis didn't notice it but Aunt Petunia's mouth twitched upwards in a quick smile and then the woman coughed to cover her own laughter. She'd forgotten how ridiculous that letter would be to someone who didn't believe in magic; how ridiculous it had been to herself and Lily when the latter had received her acceptance letter. There was no reason for Lily's daughter to believe it now. In fact, she and Vernon had worked very hard to make sure that she wouldn't believe in magic at all. She'd overreacted and perhaps they wouldn't have had such a hectic week if she had just let her have the letter from the first. Those freaks would have known she'd disregarded it, wouldn't they? They probably wouldn't have sent another and just assumed that Amaryllis wasn't interested. Petunia shook her head. She had been foolish.

Uncle Vernon began to drive again, shaking from the rush of life flowing back through him. For a horrifying moment, the mustachioed man's heart had constricted painfully and all of the doctor's words – "high blood pressure," "high cholesterol," "miracle you haven't had a heart attack yet," "worried about you having a stroke" - had rushed back to him. But the girl's dismissal of the letter from those _freaks_ allowed his heart to pump again. If she hadn't… If she'd taken it more seriously then maybe… He pushed the thoughts aside and kept driving, complaining loudly about bad drivers and people always having to be in a rush even as he pushed 120 km/h still heading northwest on the motorway.

It took a few minutes for Amaryllis to get control of the laughter but finally she was able to take a deep calming breath. Dudley was still laughing in bursts but they were dwindling and finally he too was able to exhale loudly. "That was a good joke. Wish I'd thought of it. Who really sent that letter?"

"No idea," Amaryllis answered honestly. "It seems like an awful lot of work mostly because of the owls all over the place and how much money they would have had to spend to get all those envelopes and the paper." A ghastly thought struck her suddenly. "All those poor trees! How could anyone be so cruel just to play some elaborate prank on someone like me?"

No one responded as they were all absorbed into their own thoughts and she sighed before leaning back against the glass. She had to admit that this was probably the most she'd ever laughed with her relatives before. It had also been a long while since she and Dudley had gotten along. There was a time before weird things started happening that they were allowed to play together and they had fun. They would sit on the rug in the living room watching the tele or draw clumsy pictures with thick crayons or else build Lego towers. That had changed when one of the drawings Dudley had managed to draw on the wall began moving. It wasn't normal but to the four years olds it was perfectly wonderful. The finishing touches of a masterpiece.

The effect had been ruined when Aunt Petunia, drawn but the laughter and clapping had come in to investigate and promptly shrieked. Her scream had made the preschoolers turn but she'd rushed to Dudley, scooped him up into her arms and began yelling at Amaryllis. The girl in question couldn't for the life of her remember what her Aunt had said but from then on she was alone. She hadn't been allowed anywhere near Dudley for at least a week, during which time her Aunt had sectioned off the living room and began to scrub the walls. By the end of the month everything had changed. Amaryllis was no longer allowed to spend her time alone playing but instead taught how to do chores, Dudley was kept occupied by shiny new toys every week, Uncle Vernon had taken to calling his four year old niece "Girl" or "Freak," Aunt Petunia's lean face took on a perpetual expression of distaste, and the house, once the domain of two rambunctious children, was spotless.

The tension which had been building up for seven long years began to fade away as they drove on until finally, Uncle Vernon pulled into a corner store and got out of the vehicle. Dudley and Aunt Petunia followed but before Aunt Petunia could close the door, she turned to Amaryllis and leaned back into the car. "Do you want anything from the store?"

Amaryllis, who had been looking out the window and had made no move to exit, was stunned. She couldn't remember her Aunt ever asking and after a few moments her aunt was still waiting. What had changed? "No, thank you, Aunt Petunia."

Her aunt nodded, backed out of the car again, and the door closed with a _snick_. Amaryllis lay her head back onto the window and allowed her eyes to drift shut. When she woke up again she was surprised to find that they were miles away and that Dudley, who usually spent the time on long trips (not that there were many Amaryllis was allowed to go on) trying to make her colorful, was fast asleep. She turned to watch as the trees went by. Two minutes later, the car pulled off the motorway and then the trees began to clear. There, stretching for miles in front of her, was the ocean. White crested waves broke gently steel grey water and rolled onto the shore. She tried to imagine what it would look like on a bright day and the image brought a smile to her face.

The car stopped, the engine was cut, and the doors opened. Almost immediately Amaryllis was swept away in the sound of waves as alternated between gentle hushes and harsh whispers. "Shh, Vernon. Dudley is still sleeping," she heard Aunt Petunia whisper to Uncle Vernon. Through the endless distance, Amaryllis could hear the calls of gulls. She could even see a large fishing boat, the size of a pencil tip, bobbing along very far out in sea, disappearing and reappearing between the crests and troughs. The adults got out of the car and Aunt Petunia quietly loaded the food from a plastic bag and into the cooler that Uncle Vernon had brought. Uncle Vernon meanwhile walked away, the sand crunching and crackling with each step he took.

Amaryllis hesitantly opened her own door and swung a foot out. "Take off your sneakers and socks first," her aunt said before her foot could make contact with the sand-covered concrete of the parking lot."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia." Amaryllis hastily pulled off her sneakers, stripped off her socks, and stuffed them into her shoe before stepping onto the concrete barefoot with her sneakers in her hand. She closed the door and took small steps away from the car and towards the beach. She had always imagined that sand would be hot but because the sun hadn't pierced the heavy clouds all day, it was actually quite cold. Her feet pressed against the unforgiving surface of the concrete for a moment before she sprinted onto the sand which submerged her feet and snuggled around close. Running became difficult and sand lifted into the air in spurts before settling again, so she spun in place instead with her head thrown back as she breathed in deep lungfuls of moist, salty air.

Uncle Vernon came back to the car to find the picnic basket ready, his wife sitting on the hood of the car watching his niece who lay spread-eagle in the sand, and his son still napping in the backseat of the company car. He moved to his stand beside his wife and faced the vast ocean, once again ignoring the black haired little girl. "There's a hut out there on that rock over there," he told his wife, pointing towards a rocky outcropping in the distance. "I paid for a motorboat so we can get there. There'll be a storm tonight so we won't be able to do much but it'll be good to get away for a bit."

"We don't need to do this, Vernon. The letters should stop now that the girl's opened one."

"It might, but we don't know that for sure. S'far as we know, the house is flooded in them. They're kind aren't really known for getting the point."

"Fair point. At least we're not in a place they'd expect."

"Quite right." Vernon's eyes pulled itself from the ocean and towards the girl who was napping in the sand. "She seems to like it here."

Petunia nodded. "Just like Lily. Lily used to love coming to the beach when we were younger. Then again, I did too. My parents used to bring us to the beach every weekend when we were growing up." The woman closed her eyes before she breathed in deep. "I'd forgotten how calm it was on days like this."

Her husband sighed gustily and looked into the car towards his son who was just beginning to stir and his lips lifted into a smile. "We should've at least brought Dudley as he was growing up. After that first time we never brought him back again. Do you remember that time?" Vernon chuckled. "Little tyke had fun throwing that sand around and building his little sand castle. Do you still have those pictures?"

"Of course," Petunia answered. "I've put them into a photo album with all his baby pictures."

Dudley opening his wide blue eyes was enough for Vernon to stand straight, bringing his arm down from where he'd rested it on top of the car and bang on it once. "Alright, we've rested enough. Girl, help your aunt with the basket."

Amaryllis almost didn't hear her uncle's order, sound was a bit skewed she noticed, as she lay there on the sand. Every word took longer to travel towards her and the wind, blowing steadily towards the tree line, blew them along with it. But when her drifting mind discerned the faraway command, she pushed herself to her feet and hurried back to the car before lifting the basket into her arms. She said nothing as she waited for Dudley, still looking around in wide-eyed wonder reminiscent of the expression on his face when he'd only been nine months old and in a different beach beneath a bright blue sky, shining sun, and a floppy yellow sunhat, to shut the door.

Uncle Vernon grabbed the cooler and led the way and after several minutes the small group reached a more sheltered area where there was a dock with a dozen boats of all sizes bobbing in the water. Amaryllis could tell that the water here was deeper from the darkness of the water and kept herself on the middle of the floating boardwalk. Her hands clenched tight around the basket's handle as the dock bobbed up and down making the walk unsteady. Unfortunately, the boat that was waiting for them was at the other end of the dock and was also moving with the choppy water. Aunt Petunia helped Dudley onto the boat and after a moment of watching Amaryllis struggle to get on, helped her as well. "Come on then, I won't let you fall in." She took her hand and allowed Amaryllis to put more of her weight onto her aunt and then waited for her to hop down onto the boat. When Amaryllis was steady, Aunt Petunia reached back up and brought down the basket, set it down, and then reached up one more time for the cooler Uncle Vernon handed her. By the time that was set on the bottom of the boat, Amaryllis was sitting with her back pressed against the boat driver's podium.

Uncle Vernon huffed and grunted as he lowered himself heavily into the boat and then reached up to untie the rope keeping the boat from drifting off. He then climbed up to the steering wheel, pulled a key out of the pocket of his shorts, inserted it into the ignition, twisted it, and smiled in satisfaction as the motor roared to life. Amaryllis didn't see any of this because her eyes were shut tight and her fingers were clenched around the seat. Dudley, however, was leaning over the side of the boat peering first towards the bow and then towards the stern. It wasn't a great distance by any means. The entire boat which plowed through the waves was only 15 feet long.

Amaryllis covered her mouth as yet another wave broke against the side of the boat and sprayed her with salty water some fifteen minutes later. The waters now were pitching ever higher and Amaryllis could hear the thundering break of the surf against the rock. The island on which the hut sat loomed above them looking ominous against the dark, rolling clouds flashing white against it. But to Amaryllis, an island of any sort was a blessing and as soon as the boat was close enough she rushed to her feet, grabbed the edge of the boat and climbed onto the slick land. Several shaky steps later, she emptied the contents of her stomach into the roiling water below her.

"Nice, scarhead. Real nice," Dudley said as he laughed her.

"Shut up," she retorted weakly. "I am never, ever getting back on a boat again."

"You have to, we still have to go back home tomorrow." His smile became sinister and Amaryllis knew before he spoke that it would be the worst thing he'd ever said to her. "We have to go back on to boat. It'll bump. Toss. Spraaaay. Rollllll. Up. And down. Up. And down." Amaryllis, who had been getting steadily greener with each word, doubled over and vomited again. Dudley walked up the path after his father, who had already gotten out of the boat with the cooler and the basket, and his mother laughing. "Come on, Potter! You don't want to get swept into the sea again, do you?!" he called over his shoulder as he clambered on.

The girl groaned as she straightened up, still clutching her stomach. Her cousin, she was sure, was pure evil. But he was also right. She would get pulled out into the waves if she stayed there especially since they were becoming rougher with each passing minute. Amaryllis started up the incline after her aunt and uncle but stopped, horrified at the top when she saw the state of the place they would be weathering the storm out it. Decrepit didn't even begin to cover it. The shack would blow away during the storm, for sure and she'd have to cling onto a piece of driftwood for dear life until someone took pity and fetched her. Luckily, she was a tiny slip of a girl and would easily float. She wasn't so sure her cousin and uncle could make the same claim.

Pushing that aside, she opened the dry wooden door whose rusty metal hinges creaked as it swung to let her in. The door, aided heavily by a gust of wind, slammed into the wall causing Amaryllis to jump. Her aunt looked up from the small table that looked almost as old as the house based on the fact that its surface was scuffed, notched, with wood and paint peeling off in fraying strips, and underneath was a dull gray. "Close the door and lock it; we don't want the wind to blow it open."

Apparently Amaryllis was not the only one who doubted the shack's ability to withstand a thunderstorm. She did as she was told, making sure that the bolt was latched firmly and that she didn't cut herself on the metal. Her fourth grade teacher had once told the class about a disease one could catch from getting cut on rusted metal called tetanus. It was a condition she preferred to avoid at all costs and thankfully, she wasn't injured at all as the night progressed although the house creaked and groaned around them and she could have sworn the support beam above them was bent at one point.

Aunt Petunia served her a portion of the meal she had brought, which while still comparatively small to the others was quite large for her. Amaryllis couldn't eat it all, so Dudley cleaned off the rest of her plate looking pleased by the task. Afterwards, the adults went upstairs into a bedroom that Amaryllis didn't bother going to explore and Dudley followed after them a little while later after tossing and turning on the ratty couch for some time. While it was cool that Amaryllis got to spend the night in the living room by herself, she couldn't help but feel not only lonely (an emotion she was used to) but also frightened (one she wasn't). Rain pounded against the wooden walls, wind howled through the gaps and cracks, thunder boomed overhead bathing the living room with white light in flashes, all the while she could hear the waves crashing against the rocks below her.

In short, Amaryllis couldn't sleep. It didn't help that her birthday was in only three minutes. What a way to start her birthday, not that they were ever anything interesting or fun. Dudley got to pick places to go like the zoo this year, or any restaurant he wanted. The year before the Dursleys had taken him to London for the day leaving Amaryllis with Mrs. Figg. She'd never gotten to do any of those things though.

11:58.

It could go without saying that she didn't get any birthday presents either. She paused in that thought and shook her head. That wasn't entirely true. Every year, on her birthday the Dursleys gave her a pair of second hand jeans that were three sizes too big and either a T-shirt or sweater to go with it (also second hand). That actually counted as a present and even if they were still too big to wear that year, she would eventually fit into them, so they were usable and essential.

The crunching of gravel outside made her sit up on the couch and gaze at the door, straining to hear if it was just her imagination or not. Nothing reached her ears, but a bright light flashed between the gaps of the door. She was sure the storm was now at its peak.

11:59.

Hearing nothing, she lay back down and jiggled her leg. This year was already shaping out to be a different birthday than she'd ever had before. It may also turn out to be the most peaceful she'd had with the Dursleys. Maybe they would stay by the shore for a while before they had to go back to Privet Drive. Boom –

Now she was positive there was someone at the door with a battering ram. Lightening flashed through the window but nothing but darkness came from the doorway. Boom –

12:00

The door fell onto the floor with a crash, the alarm Amaryllis had set on her battered watch began beeping, another door slammed open from upstairs, a wave broke near the top of the rock, and another flash of lightening illuminated the spray as it splashed over the looming form of the largest man Amaryllis had ever seen. Just as Uncle Vernon came to a stop at the bottom of the steps, the man stepped forward into the hut and leaned down.

"Sorry 'bout tha'; doors jus' ain't wha' they used to be." Then, with one hand, the man lifted the door up and pushed it back into the doorframe.

Amaryllis's mouth moved but no sound escaped as she stared at the man with wide eyes. Uncle Vernon was the one to get his voice back first. "Now see here, you can't just come barging in uninvited."

"Well, I knocked, din't I?" Amaryllis blinked.

"I demand that you leave at once!" Uncle Vernon said as he puffed himself out to make himself look intimidating. Considering that the man was at least thrice as tall and twice as wide as her uncle, she didn't think it worked very well. From the man's snort, it didn't.

The man looked around the hut and found Amaryllis watching him with wide eyes with her arms and chin hanging over the edge of the couch's back. "An' ye mus' be Amaryllis!" She gave a single nod. "Las' I saw ye, ye were jus' a lil' babe!"

Amaryllis couldn't refute that statement seeing as she wouldn't have been old enough to remember anyone, really. So, she said nothing. "Ye look jus' like yer da' but ye've got yer mum's eyes."

"Err…thanks?"

"Oh, I've got yer present somewhere in these pockets. Lessee." The man walked towards the table and began sorting through an incredible amount of things that he pulled out of his pockets. The dormice he pulled out almost sent Aunt Petunia sprinting up the stairs but a steadying hand from Uncle Vernon whose danger vein was beginning to pulse, stayed her. She sent a quick glance towards her niece who was still watching the man silently.

Finally, Amaryllis opened her mouth, sure that the sausage links he'd just pulled out couldn't possibly be sanitary. "You didn't have to get me anything, you know?"

"Rubbish, it's not e'ryday a young lady turns eleven, is it?

Amaryllis wanted to nod and explain that yes, statistically a girl would turn eleven every day. After all there were at least five billion people on the planet. Instead she stayed silent until another, and probably more important thought struck her. "No offense or anything, but who exactly are you?"

The man looked startled for a moment as he stopped emptying his pockets and then began to chuckle. "Righ', sorry 'bout tha.' Name's Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts. Course, ye know all 'bout tha.'"

Aunt Petunia gasped as Uncle Vernon opened his mouth. "You mean you're part of that prank letter?" Amaryllis asked aghast before her uncle could say a word. "Don't you think it's a little…overkill do all of this for a joke?"

"A joke? Blimey, Amaryllis. Hogwarts isn' a joke. It's the bes' school of magic tha' there is and its headmaster is the greatest wizard of all time, Albus Dumbledore." This last bit he said with such pride that Amaryllis was certain he'd burst and also sure that at least he believed it. She was understandably skeptical though. Just as she made to deny the fact that magic existed, her uncle spoke up in a great booming voice.

"I'LL NOT BE PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT, OLD FOOL TO TEACH HER MAGIC TRICKS!" If Uncle Vernon had said anything else, maybe something along the lines of 'There's no such thing as magic or Hogwarts or wizards!' Amaryllis wouldn't have been phased; it was the expected response. This, however, she couldn't ignore so she turned towards her aunt and uncle locking her gaze onto the pair. Aunt Petunia's pale face was pinched with anger and possibly pain, but when she saw Amaryllis watching her, she straightened and steadied before nodding resolutely.

The temperature in the room seemed to plummet as the giant man glared at the pair of adults. "Don' ye dare insult Albus Dumbledore in fron' o' me!" He brandished a little pink umbrella at them which would have made Amaryllis start laughing if the situation hadn't been serious. As it was, Amaryllis felt the need to distract the man before he could hurt the Dursleys.

"So, I'm a witch then? That letter was real?"

To her surprise it was her Aunt Petunia who answered instead of Rubeus Hagrid. "Of course you are. How could you not be with my sister being just as strange and freakish?" she sneered. "Then, if you please, she goes and gets herself blown up and _we_ got landed with _you_."

Amaryllis didn't know why but those words hurt more than it should have. She'd spent the past few years being addressed in condescending indifference or honed cruelty. But they had reached a truce of sorts earlier, or at least they seemed to have. Everything could have changed for the better but now…now she felt as she had after her first experience with…magic. Hurt. Alone. Upset. However, the confusion she felt then was replaced by swelling rage. The windowpanes rattled in their frames, wind screamed through the house and swirled around her. She took a deep calming breath, allowing her emotions to settle, before glaring at her aunt. "I'm sorry to have imposed on your hospitality," she spat. "I shan't do so again."

Outside the wind still blew through the gaps, the thunder began to grow more distant, and the waves still dashed the rock outcrop. Upstairs, Dudley's snores echoed from the bedroom.

Uncle Vernon turned his own attention towards his niece as she sat stiffly on the couch, her eyes trained her clasped, shaking hands. "Is that so?" he asked warily.

She nodded.

"We'll discuss this when we get back to the house." He turned to the stunned visage of Hagrid, who had not seen Amaryllis nod. "Don't you have anywhere to be?"

Hagrid shook his head. "I'm to take her to get her school stuff later."

"Fine. Let's go, Pet." Petunia nodded and the adults went back into the room where Dudley slept and shut the door behind them with a very loud snap. Amaryllis swallowed, and then took a deep shuddering breath.

"They didn't tell ye, then. Always knew there was summat wrong wit' the Dursleys," Hagrid growled as he sat in the second ratty couch which bent nearly in half under his weight. Perhaps he was used it or simply didn't notice, but either way it didn't faze him. "Ye got yer letter though, righ'?" Amaryllis nodded. "Tha's good then." He resumed his search in his pockets and then his extraordinarily wild beard rose up. "Ah, there it is. Might've sat on it a' one poin', bu' it should taste fine jus' the same."

He pulled out a tied (and squished) cake box and set it on the weathered coffee table before nodding to it. Amaryllis gave him a smile and opened the box. Inside was a round cake with the words "Happy Birthday Amaryllis" frosted on. She couldn't make out the colors, nor could she tell what flavor it was but she rose to her feet regardless and walked to the kitchen area of the hut. Petunia had brought paper plates and disposable utensils for the trip. Amaryllis separated two paper plates, a plastic knife, and two plastic forks from the rest. She handed one of each to Hagrid as she reached him and then began to cut the cake.

"What's Hogwarts like then?" she finally asked, more to break the silence than because she cared at the moment.

Hagrid shrugged and smiled at her. "It's home. Ye'd have ta see it fer yerself. Can' explain a place so magical properly."

"OK." The two of them managed to finish off the cake without much trouble at all. Amaryllis had been pleased to find that the cake was chocolate. After finishing, she threw the cake box, their plates, and the utensils in a garbage bag and returned to the couch.

As she was laying down, she heard the giant man, _Hagrid_ , she reminded herself, speaking. "Best get to sleep now. We've got a long day ahead of us."

She didn't answer because she'd already drifted off to sleep.


	4. Shopping in the Alley

Amaryllis whimpered as a wave slammed into the side of the little boat Hagrid was directing. She had thought yesterday’s trip on the motorboat was bad but this one, was abysmal. The rowboat was positively tiny even though it did fit both her and the enormous man. There was little hope of anyone else fitting inside comfortably and she knew that if it had been Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley instead of Hagrid, they wouldn’t have all fit in at all. As it was, the boat was already low in the water and continually filling with water that he lazily bailed out with one hand as he read a newspaper with The Daily Prophet emblazoned on the front. The images moved and somewhere in her was the awe at this and the desire to ask questions such as how they managed to do that but her feelings were drowned out by another one. Misery. 

She covered her mouth as she had done on the trip to the outcropping that she was glad she’d never see again but as the boat bobbed over another gentle wave, well, it didn’t help in the slightest. Scooping a handful of salty water, she cleaned the sick from her mouth and groaned. “Hagrid, when are we getting off?” 

“Couple min I s’pose. I could go faster if ye wan’,” he responded looking over at the trembling girl with sympathy, concern, and the tiniest gleam of excitement. 

“Oh God, no,” Amaryllis moaned. She glanced behind her towards the shore which was steadily drawing nearer and was surprised that this trip had taken significantly less time than the first. Then again that was always the case with outings. Not that she had many experiences to compare it to. 

She was relieved to hear the rolling waves again as the rowboat stopped cutting through the water. Nor did she question why exactly Hagrid had stopped directing the boat towards the shore and then with startling clarity it hit her. “God, if you exist, please don’t let us die,” she thought as she curled into the bottom of the boat which lifted suddenly into the air with only the foaming crest of the wave as its support. Riding it would have been terrifying to the girl but kind of cool too. She wondered what it would look like inside the water tunnel. Before her thought could finish though, the wave tossed the boat into the air leaving her feeling oddly weightless. Her stomach fluttered under her but unlike it was pleasant unlike seasickness. The wind blasted passed and if her hands hadn’t been occupied by holding onto the sides so she wouldn’t fall back into the ocean, she would have thrown them into the air. 

Fortunately she hadn’t because the rowboat hit the sand and skidded another forty feet before coming to a halt. “Alrigh’?” Hagrid inquired as he stood and brushed sand from his wild beard.  
The small sand monster still clinging to the edges of the boat nodded and then rose unsteadily to her feet. She felt heavy after the moment of lightness but the tremors that had tormented her as they sped along the open sea was receding. Hagrid chuckled and helped get most of the sand off her before they began heading towards the more populated area of the town.   
Their trip was mostly silent as Amaryllis enjoyed the last few moments on the shore and readjusted to movement on earth. By the time they reached the town though, Amaryllis was more than recovered enough to start asking questions so she did and was promptly hushed by Hagrid. “I’ll tell ye later; can’ talk bou’ tha’ ‘round Muggles. ‘Sides, it’s not safe here.”   
“Why not?” Amaryllis asked looking around as they came to a stop on the train platform. “No one’s look— ” She stopped speaking and realized that wasn’t true at all. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one who found Hagrid’s size fascinating if not alarming. It seemed that everyone in this small town, where everyone must have known everyone else, had their eyes on the large man. Some eyes, she noted, were even flicking between the two of them with no small trace of concern. “Well, no one’s listening.”  
“Ye never know,” he answered gruffly looking around suspiciously. This instantly put the other commuters on high alert, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Bes’ ta talk when we ge’ there.”   
She didn’t get to ask where because just then the train screamed into the station and she closed her eyes against the rushing air. The wheels screeched as the train slowed and finally grunted to a break. A hiss of pressure escaped as the doors opened and then it was time for the exchange of people. Amaryllis kept close to the giant through the crush of people but they all split for him so it wasn’t much of a challenge. Hagrid sat, taking three seats for himself and then pulled out a ball of yarn and knitting needles from his overcoat as she sat on one of the side seats and placed her head on against the window.   
A crackling voice sounded over the loud speakers and announced, “The next stop is Birkenhead Station; stand clear of the closing doors.” A soft chime sounded and the doors slid closed. With much less violence, the train sped off along the track, still heading northeast.   
“Where are we going?” Amaryllis finally asked after watching him for several minutes. He was rather good at knitting, but for some reason she wasn’t surprised. The same couldn’t be said for other passengers on the train who were eying him as the needles clicked together.   
“London, o’ course.”   
Amaryllis nodded and stayed silent, watching as people got on and off the train for the next two stops before the announced declared that the next stop was “Liverpool Lime Street.” It hadn’t taken them long but Hagrid had caught the eye of new people each time people boarded the train. The two disembarked and soon found themselves on yet another train. This one, she knew would take the longest as they would have to ride it all the way into London, but this was also the last one, so it couldn’t be that bad.   
Compared to the boat ride, the train ride was tame but it took them forever to reach pull into London and Amaryllis stretched her arms up. “Finally, now where to?”   
“One more train,” Hagrid said grinning at her disgruntled expression. “Las’ one, I promise.” They walked towards the line that would take them to their destination. “There’s on’y one place ta get yer supplies. It’s on Charing Cross Road, so we’ll jus’ take this ta it.”   
She nodded as they waited silently for the train to arrive. “Do you come here a lot? Aren’t there any” – she cut herself off and looked around before deeming it safe -- “easier ways to travel?”   
“Aye, tha’ there are. But I can’ use ‘em, so I take the train when I gotta leave, well, ye know where.”   
Assuming he meant Hogwarts, which was where he worked after all, she nodded. She knew she couldn’t ask any more specifically about the magical transportation so she held her tongue and instead glanced at her wristwatch. It was nearing 9 AM. They had left the hut on the rock before sunrise and were already at the station when the sun began to lighten the dark sky to reveal the start of a dreary grey day. The time of their departure meant that she didn’t encounter the Dursleys this morning and she wondered not for the first time that day when the last time such an event had occurred. Probably never since the time she had been left with them.   
At precisely 9:01 the train that would take them to Charing Cross pulled into the station and the doors rattled open with another voice announcing that the train was “Southbound via Charing Cross.” She ignored the rest of that announcement and followed Hagrid onto the train.   
When it opened at their final destination Amaryllis wriggled herself out of the train and onto the underground platform. This was another first for her but she didn’t particularly like it. Thankfully, she only had to wait another moment for Hagrid as he extracted himself from the train. People muttered angrily as the doors closed and the train pulled away.   
“Follow me, then. An’ stay close.” She did as she was told and they left the station and stepped out onto the bustling street. “This way.” They walked for several minutes and final Hagrid stopped them. “This ‘ere is the entrance to our world,” he explained gesturing to a shady looking pub with a sign hanging off of one hinge which identified it as The Leaky Cauldron. “Muggles can’ see it,” he continued and opened the door for her. She entered and looked around the equally shabby inside and immediately all doubt that there was a magic fled. The people inside were speaking in hushed tones which wasn’t strange at all. The fact that almost all of them were wearing what she supposed were robes, however, was. As was the fact that some were waving wands and making various things happen such as a glass return to the table or a spoon stir the contents of a mug with green steam rising from it.   
The bar tender, who had looked up upon her entrance recognized the man gently pushing her forward. “The usual, Hagrid?”   
“Can’t, Tom. I’m on Hogwarts business,” Hagrid answered proudly and placing his hand none-too-subtly on Amaryllis’s shoulder.   
As if this was permission, Tom turned his gaze back onto her, making her fidget. “Good Lord, is this – can this be --? Bless my soul. Amaryllis Potter…what an honour.” He gave her a wide, toothless grin. “Welcome back, Ms. Potter, welcome back.”   
And just like that, Amaryllis found herself shaking hands with everyone in the pub with some people even coming back for seconds (and in one case fourths). They shouted out welcomes and congratulations and “it’s an honour to meet you’s” and she wondered why everyone seemed to know who she was. What had happened here to make these people so eager to meet her? As far as she knew she was just an ordinary…witch, who just so happened to have been orphaned. Not really something to celebrate.   
Hagrid didn’t step in until most of the people in bar had gotten their fill with the exception of the excitable Mr. Diggle. “Well, we must be off,” he exclaimed. “We got a long day ahead of us.” It would have been nice if he stopped them ages ago, Amaryllis thought unhappily as she followed him towards the back door. She had seen people going in and out through there so she didn’t question this destination. Before they got to the door though, Hagrid suddenly stopped and Amaryllis walked into him then tumbled onto her backside. Her cheeks reddened as some unhelpful soul sniggered, but she didn’t dare to look for the source. Instead, she aimed a glare at the giant who was now gesturing to her. “Amaryllis, this is Professor Quirrel; he’ll be teachin’ ye Defense Agains’ the Dark Arts, this year.”   
“N-not th-that you’ll be n-needing m-much help with th-that, eh, M-Miss P-p-p-otter?”   
“Erm, I suppose?”   
“We bes’ be off, it was nice seeing ye, Professor.” Hagrid started off again and Amaryllis hurried after him after a quick “bye” over her shoulder. The pair got outside and stopped again in front of a solid brick wall. “Lessee here. Ye tap here.” He tapped a pattern onto the bricks with his pink umbrella and the wall rolled back to form an archway and revealed the most magical place Amaryllis had seen yet. “Welcome to Diagon Alley!” Hagrid declared happily and led the way in as he continued advertising the district.   
She tuned him out too busy trying to catch all the sights. People wearing robes gathered in groups exchanging greetings and news, while still others complained about the prices of Dragon Liver. Ew! Who would eat that? She wondered watching the harried looking woman. A live bat clung onto a wood sign with the words Mr. Mulpepper’s Apothecary carved into it. An advertisement on its window declared that it provided the “freshest ingredients in London” while another announcement claimed, “We don’t sell Unicorn Blood; stop asking!” The shop next to it was Slug & Jigger’s Apothecary which extolled itself as “Any Potioneers Go-To Shop! Low Prices Guaranteed!” Next to that was a shop that sold all types of cauldrons.   
Amaryllis pulled her eyes away from the display of the Self-Stirring Cauldron and continued following Hagrid towards the largest building in Diagon Alley. Gringott’s Bank appeared to be made of smooth marble and stepping inside (passed the tiny armored guards bearing axes twice their size), was just the same. The people behind the high counters weren’t really people at all. If she had to guess she’d say an Orc or possibly they were like Gollum.   
“Goblins,” Hagrid explained. Right; this is real life and not a literary masterpiece. “Bes’ not stare. They don’ like it. They don’ like wizards, either ta be honest. But they’re fair as long as ye don’ cross ‘em.”  
“Why do they run the bank if they don’t like wizards, though?” Amaryllis asked as they approached a free goblin. “I wouldn’t work with people I don’t like if I had the choice.”   
“We do not have a choice,” the goblin snarled. Amaryllis winced. “What do you want?” he asked, addressing Hagrid.   
“We’re here to make a withdrawal from Amaryllis Potter’s vault,” Hagrid announced. She wondered if he could say that any louder. She was sure someone on the other end of the long counter missed it.   
“And does Miss Potter have her key?”   
“A key?”   
“Aye, I’ve got it here somewhere. Dumbledore gave it to me.” He began pulling out random objects from his massive pockets and both Amaryllis and the goblin winkled their noses when he pulled out a stale biscuit.   
Amaryllis didn’t know why the headmaster of a school she had yet to attend had her key in the first place but she really didn’t want to start off the year with suspicions. So, instead she turned her attention back to the goblin who was apparently getting very impatient. “Erm, Mr.?”  
“Dreadstealer,” he snapped.   
“Mr. Dreadstealer, what type of investments can we make, you know, to increase profits?” Amaryllis remembered her uncle’s attempt to teach Dudley about stocks, bonds, funds, and property. It had gone right over her cousin’s head mainly because he was more interested in playing his computer game. But Amaryllis had heard enough to get a vague understanding of the concepts he was trying to impart.   
Hagrid pulled out a long thread of yarn.   
Dreadstealer looked down his rather pointy nose at her and then nodded as she gazed back up at him. “Your account will accumulate interest over time and as your family has a longstanding histpry with Gringott’s it has quite a bit. There are other options of course,” Dreadstealer stated, grabbing something underneath the desk and handed it down to her. A pamphlet. She took it. “That details some of the options Gringott’s assists with. Property is usually handled by the witch or wizard in question.”   
“Thank you, Mr. Dreadstealer.”   
The goblin nodded. Amaryllis flipped through the pamphlet, resolving to read it in greater detail when she had the opportunity and maybe a dictionary. Finally, Hagrid held up a tiny gold key triumphantly. “Ah, here the little bugger is.”   
Dreadstealer snatched the key and examined it before handing it down to Amaryllis who took it quickly in case Hagrid decided to intervene. He hadn’t apparently.   
“That’s appears to be in order, will there be anything else?”   
“There’s one more thing,” Hagrid stage-whispered. He handed Dreadstealer a letter with the same red seal as on Amaryllis’s acceptance letter. “It’s about you-know-what in vault you-know-which.”   
Amaryllis blinked nonplussed but Dreadstealer seemed to understand all too well and he was none-too pleased. “Very well.” He rang the bell on his counter and another goblin hurried forward to them. “Griphook will take you down to both vaults. Gringott’s thanks you for your visit,” Dreadstealer said this last bit with a sneer that made Amaryllis snicker. She waved to the goblin who nodded as she turned and followed Hagrid and Griphook to the massive wood doors at the opposite end of the hall.   
Griphook lead them from the light, airy hall and onto a ledge leading down into the dark abyss. A wet, earthy scent blew upward with the air from the depths. The goblin whistled before he grabbed a lit torch. A wood cart came barreling along a track that Amaryllis had just noticed in the flickering light of the torch. Griphook fastened the torch into a bracket on the cart and then nodded for the two of them to get on. Amaryllis did with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. Hagrid followed, taking a deep breath as he did so. As soon as Hagrid had settled onto his seat the cart shot forward and the feeling of weightlessness returned as the cart plunged downwards at neck-breaking speed. Delight bubbled up and she laughed, throwing her arms up with a whoop of joy.   
Griphook snorted from in front of them and Hagrid grabbed her hand as the cart shot downwards once more. Held at bay by the large man, Amaryllis decided to watch the progress of the cart instead and marveled at how Griphook didn’t steer at all; the cart had a mind all of its own and took the path that caused her the most joy and Hagrid the most discomfort. She could see him turning steadily greener by the torchlight. Griphook looked bored. “Mr. Griphook, how does the cart steer itself?”   
“Goblin secret, that is,” he responded gruffly.   
The green-eyed girl accepted this with a nod and enjoyed the rest of the trip in silence only gasping in amazing at a flare from off to one side and dull roar. “DRAGON!”   
Her shout startled Hagrid and made him look around in a mixture of alarm and excitement. “Where?”   
“It was back there,” she said, twisting in her seat to point behind them. Unfortunately the cart looked like it was an altogether different part of the track. “Huh, that’s weird.”   
“Gringott’s has plenty of protections; the dragon is the least of them,” Griphook said.   
“Not a lot of people can steal from here, then?”   
“No one has ever stolen from Gringott’s. It is the safest place on Earth,” the goblin announced with no amount of uncertainty.   
“’Cept fer Hogwarts,” Hagrid added.   
Griphook face twisted into a grimace of distaste but he didn’t respond.   
The cart finally reached a vault and pulled to an abrupt stop. “Key please,” Griphook snapped. Amaryllis handed over her key and he pushed it into the vault then twisted. The vault opened and a green fog flowed outwards, obscuring the contents and their feet. How’s that for a dramatic effect?   
The green fog cleared away revealing mountains of shiny coins. “This is the Potter Trust Vault. It refills automatically at the end of each year. You will be allowed access to the main vault upon reaching your majority.”   
“How much are these worth?”   
“Twenty seven Knuts to a Sickle, seventeen sickles to a Galleon; a Galleon is worth approximately fifty pounds of Muggle currency depending on the fluctuations in the value of gold.” It was official then. Amaryllis Potter, who had never owned a single item of clothing that was new and had slept in the cupboard under her aunt’s stairs for the past ten years, was filthy stinking rich. Who would have thought?   
“Just take enough fer yer shopping,” Hagrid said, cutting her plans of splurging off. And why shouldn’t I be able to spoil myself a little? She groused. It’s not like I’ve ever had the chance to before. Griphook said nothing further, but handed her a pouch which she gratefully took and pushed a nice sum of shiny gold coins into. “Make sure ye ge’ some of the silver and little bronze ones, too.” She repeated the procedure with the specified coins and pulled the string taut when she was done. It felt no different from before, but she guessed that was an effect of magic.   
They exited the vault and Griphook closed the door, locked it, and handed Amaryllis the little key back. She placed it in the bag and pulled it closed again, before securing the bag to her jeans using the belt loop. After they boarded the cart, it proceeded further downwards and stopped shortly later in front of Vault “You-Know-Which” or rather Vault 713.   
“Stand back!” Griphook walked forward and stroked the door which then opened to reveal…a single parcel wrapped in a brown paper. That was anti-climactic.   
“What would have happened if I’d tried to open the door?” Amaryllis asked.   
“I would have had to let you out,” Griphook said.   
“Oh, so I would get in but not out. Is that the case with anyone who tries to get in?” He nodded. “How would they get out if you weren’t with them?”   
“They would have to wait until we do. We check every ten years.” Griphook’s smile turned feral and Amaryllis suppressed a shiver that had nothing to do with the chilly air circulating in the underground caverns.   
Hagrid ducked into the vault and grabbed the little package, tucking it into an inner pocket of his overcoat. He walked back to where Amaryllis and Griphook were waiting as they hadn’t followed him into the vault. “Tha’s ev’rything then. Let’s go.”   
Griphook nodded and stepped into the cart then waited for the other two to settle in. They did and once again the cart took off.   
If Amaryllis thought that the return trip would be boring, she was thrilled to be wrong. It swooped and dived, all the while working its way higher up. The cart took the turns without slowing down and skidded around bends with two wheels lifting into the air. By the time the pair reached the main hall of the bank, Hagrid was unsteady, green, and shaking. However, she had to give him some recognition. “You did much better than I did on the boat,” she said nodding with approval.   
Hagrid snorted. “Ye got yer list, righ’?”   
“Yep.” He nodded and they walked out of the bank and down Gringott’s marble steps. She turned around and looked up at the building, waving happily towards the two goblins protecting the bank. Someone would have to have a death wish to try to rob them, but maybe they wouldn’t mind if she came back just for a ride on the carts.   
“What’s firs’ on yer list?”   
“Robes,” Amaryllis answered without looking at the list and turning back towards Hagrid.   
“Tha’ll be Madame Malkins, then.” Hagrid led her to the store not too far away from the bank. “D’ye mind if I ge’ something fer, well, ta settle while yer in there?” he asked shakily.   
“No problem,” Amaryllis chirped and then entered the store before Hagrid could change his mind. A bell chimed over her head and a stout woman in mauve robes looked up from where she was working at the counter.   
“Hogwarts, dear?” Amaryllis nodded. “We have the lot of them here, what will you be needing?”   
“I’m a first year, Mam.”   
Madame Malkin bustled forward, and hurried her onto the right side of the store behind a screen. “We’ll have to take your measurements.” The woman waved her wand and a tape measure, a notepad, and a quill began their work. “Don’t worry, it’ll be done when I get back so I can get right to work.” The woman smiled at her warmly and quickly moved back to the other side of the shop where she could hear her talking to what sounded like a boy on the other side of the shop. A couple of minutes later, the woman announced that he was all done and she heard him drop onto the floor and walk towards the counter. The chime sounded again and footsteps (and what sounded like the click of a cane) made their way to the counter.   
“Draco, do you have what you need?”   
“Yes, Father.”   
“Excellent. How much do I owe you, Madame Malkin?” The man asked. A soft rustle of cloth against cloth followed by the clink of coins came from behind the screen.   
“Let’s see.” Buttons clicked against their base and the register clanged open. “That will be one Galleon, two Sickles, and five Knuts.”   
Coins hit flesh and then were dropped into the register. “Your business is appreciated, Mr. Malfoy. Have a lovely day.”   
There was a moment of silence and the pair of Malfoys made their way to the exit. Before the door could open, Madame Malkin was beside her with her arms full of black fabric. “So sorry, for the wait, dear.” The chime sounded as the door opened then closed behind the pair. “You’ll have to remove your outer-wear I’m afraid dear. I have to make sure everything fits.” Amaryllis hesitantly did as instructed and crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t be shy dear, nothing I haven’t seen before.” Even as she said this, she was draping the fabric over and fitting it. Within moments she had a vest, a skirt, and outer-robes ready. “I have the white button down shirts pre-made. I’ll have a few that should fit nicely for you in a trice. Although, you might consider on taking them a size or two larger to give you room for growth.”   
“Yes, Mam. I’d like that.”   
“Fantastic! Accio Girls Hogwarts Select!”   
“Was that a real spell?” Amaryllis asked just as five shirts whipped passed her and into Madame Malkin’s waiting hand.   
“Oh, yes. The Summoning Charm,” she said as she placed the shirts onto the pile waiting on a stool. “You’ll learn about it in your fifth year if your Charms professor has kept the curriculum my own professor used.” She made a couple of final adjustments on the work robes she was fitting on Amaryllis. “It’s a very useful spell and it is really quite simple. I’m not certain why they wait so long to teach it. All you have to do is say what you want to summon and add Accio in front of it. Easy.”   
With her robes, cloaks, and school uniform done, Madame Malkin summoned shoes, gloves, and a hat that fit her measurements as well as new pairs of socks and stockings and she was done. “There, that’s you done, dear. Was there anything else you needed?” she asked as she packed the clothing neatly into a bag while Amaryllis redressed.   
She frowned down at the clothing she wore and failed to notice Madame Malkin watching her with barely masked pity. Finally, Amaryllis shook her head thinking about the amount of shopping she still needed to complete before returning to the Dursleys. She knew there was still a discussion to be had there after all. “No, I’m alright for now, Madame Malkin.”  
“Very well.” She moved back to stand behind the register and placed the rather large bag onto the counter. She waved her wand at it. “Feather-Weight Charm,” she answered Amaryllis’s unvoiced question. “You’ll learn that one fairly soon, I think.” Amaryllis smiled and nodded at the woman. “Altogether that will be thirteen Sickles and three Knuts.”   
Amaryllis nodded and counted out the correct sum from her pouch then handed it to the woman who counted it with a glance before she dropped it into the register. “Thank you for choosing to shop here, Miss?”  
“Potter, Amaryllis Potter,” she answered quickly. She remembered a moment too late about the reaction her name had stirred in the Leaky Cauldron but it seemed she needn’t have worried.   
Madame Malkin drew in a sharp breath. “My word, are you really?” But the woman’s smile returned just as warm as it had been moments before and she continued on as usual. “Well, thank you for your business. And welcome back, Miss Potter.”   
Amaryllis gave the woman another warm smile of her own and nodded before waving and starting to turn away. “Have you good day, Madame Malkin.”   
“And you, dear.”   
Amaryllis headed out the door and met Hagrid in front of the shop holding an ice cream cone which he handed to her. She took it with a smile and a quiet thanks. They ate the ice cream quickly and then made their rounds through the rest of the shopping. Although her first choice for potion supplies would have been Mr. Mulpepper’s Apothecary, they were low on ingredients so the pair went to Slug & Jigger’s instead which she found was indeed cheaper even if the quality was a little better at Mr. Mulpepper’s; a comparison she overheard in another shopper’s muttering.   
Flourish and Blotts Bookseller took an eternity mostly because Amaryllis wanted to read so many different things but Hagrid was more concerned about finishing the trip at a decent time. In the end, she only left with the books she needed for class and an extra history book that looked a good deal more interesting than Hogwarts, A History.   
Finally, they arrived at the shop that she had been looking to with growing excitement. Ollivander’s Wand Shop. It was time to get her wand. She’d been watching as adults cast spells with varying effects all day and now she would be getting the tool to do them same. Amaryllis pushed open the dusty door and looked around the dingy shop with disappointment. She wasn’t sure what she expected but a dark shop whose air was heavy and still wasn’t it.   
“Ah, Miss Potter,” a voice whispered softly from behind her. She squeaked and spun around to face the source of the voice. “I was wondering when I’d be seeing you.” The old man’s thin lips curled into a satisfied smile and he turned and walked away in favor of browsing his shelves. “Each wand is different just as each witch or wizard is different. It goes without saying that no wand will work the same as your own,” he continued. Amaryllis glanced at Hagrid who shrugged. “My wands only consist of three types of cores; I find that these work best.” He pulled down a box and opened it for her. “Try this one.” He handed it to her and she stared at him. “Well don’t just stand there; give it a wave!” She did and a nearby vase exploded. “No, definitely not!”   
With that, the process of finding Amaryllis’s perfect match began in earnest. Surprisingly (or maybe not, Mr. Ollivander is strange), the man grew more excited as her own enthusiasm abated. After trying what felt like all of the wands in the shop, he finally stopped in front of a specific box and hmmed. “I wonder if…” He pulled the box down and opened it up before holding it out for her. She took the wand with little expectation but then she felt it. A surge of something flooded through her starting from the tips of her toes and travelled upwards and then down her arm into the wand. It hummed and warmed in her hand and finally it all settled. Her hair, which had lifted as if by the force of a gentle breeze, fell back around her and it all stopped. She was almost disappointed by the end of that feeling but she supposed it was something that had to settle eventually otherwise no one would want to do anything but stand there.   
“Bravo, Miss Potter. It seems you have your match; eleven inches, holly and phoenix feather.” He took the wand from her and began to package it repeatedly saying “curious” as he did so. When it became apparent that Ollivander had either forgotten about them, didn’t mean to speak out loud, or was simply waiting for someone to question him, she cut in.   
“Excuse me, Mr. Ollivander, but what’s curious?”   
“I remember every wand I’ve ever sold and it’s curious that you would be destined for this wand when its brother gave you that scar.” She looked up sharply, searching his crystal blue eyes for some clarification. She found none but he continued. “Yes, thirteen and a half inches, yew and phoenix feather. The same phoenix, in fact.”   
“I’m sure that’s not extraordinary. There must be dozens with tail feathers from the same phoenix. Really, how many of them are there?”   
“There aren’t many, admittedly. But this particular phoenix only allowed me two feathers and no more.” He handed the box containing the wand to her and she took it along with a deep breath. After she paid the seven Galleons, and they exchanged their farewells she made her way to the door, opened it, and stepped out. As the door closed behind her, she heard his parting words: “I expect great things from you, Ms. Potter. After all, the Dark Lord did great things, terrible things, but great.”   
The door shut with a snap behind her and she took in a deep shuddering breath. It was time to find out what was going on here and why in the world she felt the faint stirrings of fear at a possible connection to the so called Dark Lord. She followed Hagrid to the Leaky Cauldron and they sat down to a late lunch.   
“Hagrid, I don’t understand.”   
The giant man looked up from his plate and over to her, where she was sitting with a fork positioned over her barely touched food. “Understand what?”   
“Everyone knows my name; they seem to even know more about me than I do, and I don’t get why. And who is the Dark Lord? What does he have to do with me?”   
“Wha’ you’ve got ta understand abou’ tha’ is how bad it was back then.” Amaryllis was confused by this opening. But he waved her off and continued. “There are good wizards and bad ones. Before ye were born one wen’ as bad as a wizard can go. He and his followers killed lots of good people, yer parents included, and people were afraid. On tha’ day, he wen’ ta kill ye but something about ye stopped him. He couldn’ do it. After tha’ he disappeared. Ye stopped him; tha’s why yer famous. Tha’s why ev’ryone knows yer name.”   
“What happened to him?”   
Hagrid shrugged. “Some say he died; codswallop in my opinion. I reckon he’s out there, too weak to carry on.”  
Amaryllis nodded, still not entirely satisfied with the explanation but certain she wouldn’t get anything else from him. There was too much that was speculation anyway. She picked on the rest of her food until it was time for them to leave and return to the Dursleys.   
An hour later, she stood alone gazing at the house that she’d lived in since she was one and a half years old feeling less like she belonged than she ever had before. It would be her last night here, of that she was sure. Amaryllis wouldn’t miss it though. She had magic now; that was all she’d need.


End file.
